Screwed
by Ephemerale
Summary: When the exile drops down into the engine room to help Atton repair the Ebon Hawk, things get a little... heated. 4th in the LSFexile/Atton Moments series.


"Atton!" Allia's voice broke Atton's concentration, and he pulled the wrench too far to the right, causing the screw to pop under the pressure and spray motor oil in every which direction. His sudden stream of profanities must have alarmed her, for she nimbly dropped down into the engine room and took in her surroundings, her lips twitching when she saw him elbow deep in grease.

"What?" he grumbled, too annoyed to bother with pleasantries as he tried to cover the leak with one hand and dig through his tool bag for another screw with the other.

"Need help?" she asked, sounding entirely too amused at his predicament. He glared over his shoulder at her, noting that she had removed her outer robe and draped it on the ladder to avoid it being stained by the grease.

"Just… Give me a screw, will ya?" he demanded, withdrawing his hand from the bag and attempting to cover the leak again. The floor was slippery, and he reached into his newly acquired force powers to steady himself when his boot slid a little too quickly over the slick surface.

"You know, I think that's the first time you've ever said something like that to me in that context," she replied dryly, tapping his shoulder and then dropping the screw that she had nimbly plucked from his now grease covered tool bag into his outstretched palm. Atton was too distracted to think about her words until he had the screw in place and had begun to tighten it, but when he actually was able to let his mind mull over her statement for a moment he laughed.

"I'd appreciate the other type of screw a little more, of course," he said with a roughish grin and a wink over his shoulder when he had processed what the woman had said to him.

"I think you're going to have to work a little harder for that," she replied with a roll of her eyes, and despite himself, Atton's stomach lurched at the implication as he finished tightening the screw and dropped the wrench back into his tool bag.

"So you're saying it's a possibility," he said, turning to face her with a grin, and had the satisfaction of seeing her face flush and her eyes widen. She stuttered, taking a step back from him, so Atton took two steps forward and rested his hands on her shoulders. "I just need to work a little harder, hm?" he asked, his tone teasing, although he was deadly serious. If he had a shot, hell, he was going to do his damndest to take it.

"Well, getting me covered in motor oil isn't going to do the trick," she grumbled under her breath, annoyance at having his dirty hands on her beige linen robes taking precedence over her embarrassment at her slip of the tongue.

Atton grinned, taking another step closer so that their bodies were pressed flush against each other and the grease from his leather jacket was rubbing off onto her clothes. At her scowl, his smile widened and he dipped his head so that his lips were beside her ear. "And here I thought you'd be the type that would enjoy getting dirty," he murmured, smirking at the telltale hitch of her breath as he ran his hands up her arms.

Her palms were suddenly flat against his chest and she shoved him backwards, glaring at him, her nostrils flared in frustration. The floor was slick, however, and her push caused his feet slip out from under him. Instinctively, he reached out to grab a hold of her for balance, and wound up pulling her to the floor with him instead.

He took the brunt of the fall, landing hard on his back, the exile landing in an undignified heap against his chest. The woman lifted her head and glanced over him, worry replacing the frustration in her eyes as she scooted forwards and lifted his head slightly from the ground, checking it for injuries. Atton was fine, but he wasn't about to say so, what with the exile's long, lovely fingers moving over his scalp the way they were.

"Shavit, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you so hard," she replied, her tone genuinely contrite. Atton sighed, resigning himself to a loss of physical contact in favor of making her feel better, and pushed himself into a sitting position, removing her hands from his head and holding them by the wrists.

"Don't get your panties in a twist, Sweets. I probably deserved it," he replied with a wry twist to his lips. She smiled slightly in response, and then Atton became very cogniscent of the fact that her eyes had flickered down to his lips. Atton suddenly became aware that she was straddling his waist, her face entirely too close to his to keep his thoughts on the straight and narrow. He had enough trouble with that when she was across the room from him as it was.

Cautiously, he slowly ran his hands up her thighs and let them rest on her hips, waiting for her to push him away. She remained motionless. Tentatively, he brushed a thumb over her hip bone and grinned a little when he felt her shudder. Her eyes had snapped back up to his again, irritation in their depths.

"Stop teasing me," she muttered, and to her obvious annoyance his grin widened.

He leaned forward so that his lips were brushing up against her ear. "Who says I'm teasing?" he whispered, brushing his thumb over her hip bone again, letting his other hand travel up to her waist, and then higher still, lightly brushing against the underside of her breast. She shivered, her eyes falling closed, a flush that had nothing to do with embarrassment rising on her cheeks.

He leaned closer, kissed the corner of her mouth, and reached up to untie her hair, causing the thick, honey colored mass fall free around her shoulders. Still, she did not move, but her eyes remained closed and her breath had started to come faster, harder. She was restraining herself, Atton realized abruptly. She wanted to lose herself in him just as much as he wanted to lose himself in her, but she was holding herself back, probably chanting the ridiculous Jedi-drivel in her head to keep from giving into her baser instincts.

He had broken Jedi before; he would break her resistance to him now, just as easily as he had broken them. He was good at that kind of thing. He moved reached up and captured her lips roughly, purposefully, gripping her by the back of his neck and holding her in place, fully intending to seduce her and have his way with her right there on the floor of the engine pit. With a dexterous movement, he rolled so that she was pinned to the floor, her legs on either side of his hips, his body pressing into hers as his tongue ravaged her mouth. He wouldn't accept resistance; would continue to touch and feel and grope until either she reciprocated or he got what he wanted. And if she fought him or cried, well, that would make the breaking that much sweeter.

_Murderer!_ Kreia's voice rang clearly in his head, forcing his dark thoughts to come to light. Atton drew backwards as though he had been slapped, his mouth suddenly dry, his arousal diminished at the realization that for a brief moment, he had allowed Jaq to take over his senses.

He stared into the sweet face so close to his- the freckles dotting the nose, the soft blue eyes still closed, pretty lips still parted with restrained passion. Tenderness suddenly overwhelmed him, tenderness and a fierce desire to protect her, even from himself. It was at that moment that Atton realized that this had transcended lust, hell, it had even eclipsed friendship. He didn't want to put a name to the emotion tugging on his heartstrings now; it was too dangerous to name. But it made him realize that a quickie in the engine pit wouldn't be able to help him get the blasted woman out of his system.

He flipped them over again so that she was no longer beneath them, dampening the temptation to pin her down and take her as roughly as he had taken the jedi women before her. Her hips jerked a little at the movement, causing him to swallow a groan and reach out to forcefully still those hips with his hands.

Her blue eyes fluttered open slightly, sensing the change in his demeanor. "Atton?" she murmured, her eyes still glazed with lust, her breath still coming hard. Before he could help himself, he lifted a hand to cup her cheek and his lips quirked a little when she leaned into his touch. A touch that was too tender, a touch that had revealed more than he had intended Quickly he withdrew his hand and rested it on her thigh again, a place more sexual in nature, safer ground.

"What were you calling me for, earlier?" he asked, swallowing hard, attempting to steer them away from dangerous ground. Allia blinked rapidly, looking lost and disoriented at the turn that they had taken, before she licked her lips and frowned a little, obviously having trouble thinking back.

"Lunch is ready," she said at last. "I was going to ask if you wanted to join us," she continued, still looking completely and utterly confused.

"I'd love to, Sweets. But I think we need to hit the refresher first," he said, gesturing to their filthy appearance before scooting her off of him and then helping her to her feet.

"We?" she asked suspiciously, and Atton grinned.

"Well, you can go first. I did get you dirty, after all; fair's fair," he replied, and she frowned a little as she stared at up him.

"Oh," she replied. Was that disappointment in her voice? Had she really wanted to… Atton could have kicked himself. _Great time to develop a conscience, huttspawn,_ he thought to himself, suddenly realizing just how close Allia had come to giving into his advances. Just to think… instead of heading off to take a cold shower he could have been rolling on the floor with those long, perfect, gorgeous legs that drove him to distraction wrapped around his hips. Atton bit back a groan.

He swallowed hard, banishing thoughts of slim legs and soft breasts and those full, perfect lips of hers breathing his name. "Careful on your way up," he said, clearing his throat as he gestured to the ladder. She blinked at him again, confusion still present in her gaze, before she nodded and ascended the ladder back up into the cargo bay.

Atton followed shortly behind her, mindful to watch his step since his boots were still slick with oil and the ladder hadn't exactly been built for safety in the best of times. He also kept an eye out for the exile, ready to steady her if she showed signs of slipping. He needn't have worried. Even while dazed and confused the woman was more capable than he felt on his best day.

When they reached the top, she paused for a moment, staring at him with a question in her eyes before she sighed and turned away with a nearly imperceptible shake of her head. Atton's tenuous hold on his control broke a fraction, so he grabbed her hand, pulled her flush against him, and pressed his mouth to hers in a hard, searing kiss. When he felt her lips soften under his and her hands fist in his shirt, however, he managed to summon enough self control to pull away before he could shove her up against the wall and allow Jaq to have his way with her.

Another time, another day, when the tendrils of the dark side weren't brushing against his mind, when he wasn't planning their coupling the way Jaq had planned the torture and breaking of so many Jedi, when he could simply Atton and wouldn't have to worry about what sort of hell he would wind up putting her through when he allowed his passions to control him… He would continue this. Preferably in the cockpit on one of their long, tedious jaunts through hyperspace. His mind immediately went to the number of positions the pilots chair could facilitate, and he quickly pushed those thoughts aside for later.

She was staring up at him again, her lips swollen, her big blue eyes blinking at him in question. Atton swallowed hard, and covered up his feelings with his trademark cocky grin. "Think of me while you're taking your shower, Sweets," he said with a leer and he reached down to pinch her ass. "I'll be thinking of you while I take mine," he added with a wink, and her look of dazed confusion instantly transformed into a scowl, as he had known it would.

"Why you… you over-confident, perverted…nerf herder!" she exclaimed in indignation, and Atton grinned as he stepped past her.

"I don't think I've ever been more flattered! So, you have a picture of you in that dancer's outfit I can take in there with me?" he replied with a smirk, anticipating her reaction. True to form, her face turned bright red, her eyes narrowed into slits, and she took a deep breath as she attempted to control her emotions before striding past him, shaking her head and stalking out of the room. Passionate, that one. He didn't understand how she'd survived as a Jedi.

He heard Mira ask the exile what was wrong, and couldn't contain his laughter at Allia's sputtered, indignant response: "Him!" He assumed that she had pointed in his general direction because a moment later, the scantily clad read-head had sauntered into the room, a brow raised.

"What'd you do this time?" she asked, clearly amused by the whole ordeal, and Atton merely shrugged his shoulders, feigning ignorance. Mira rolled her eyes and shook her head before turning to walk out of the room again. On her way out, however, she glanced back at him. "I'm guessing it has something to do with why you're both covered in motor oil. Watch it, will you? She's not the type that'll be okay with screwing around. You break her heart, I'll break your dick," she said nonchalantly over her shoulder as she left.

Atton swallowed, and when he was alone he allowed his head to drop into his hands. He'd have to watch himself more carefully from now on. Not only did he have to worry about reigning in his lust, he now had the added burden of keeping the exile from sensing his deeper feelings. And to top it all off, he had a slightly deranged bounty hunter threatening his manhood should he make a mistake.

In simpler terms… He was screwed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I have difficulty writing pieces that are on the more light hearted end of the spectrum, but for this pairing, I really wanted to give it a shot. If you see something that needs a little bit of work, please give me some constructive criticism. Thank you!


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